Hi there. Glad, you're back. Remember: I don't own Hellsing, nor do I make money from this.

I just enjoy being mean to certain vampires. ;)

+++ Chapter 7 +++

Integra squinted in the dark, trying to figure out the tiny handwriting on the document, Seras had handed her. "Quick! Get me a branch of an ash tree, a silver ritual knife and a thread!"

"Here, Sir Integra!" Seras handed her a green branch, which she had carried in her belt. "And a silver blade. Uh, I hope, Ann won't mind the Christian blessing. She's wearing crosses, after all."

"A thread. Will this do?" Walter proffered a shiny wire, thin like cobweb and about as deadly.

"We are playing by ear, aren't we?" Integra used the bayonet, Seras had given her, to draw a pentagramma on the ground. "Are you ready, Seras?"

"Yes, Sir Integra."

Integra used the silver blade to pierce her finger and sprinkled some maiden blood on the five points of the pentagramma.

"She, who sits at Urda's silent shore, see my plight...," Seras Victoria recited the old Nordic spell in its original language, as Ann had taught her. Integra murmured after her. She could not understand the words, but Seras had told her, that a serious try would be sufficient to make her presence known to the forces of the circle.

Five flames sprung from the ground.

"She, who dwells at the ash tree's roots, hear my call..."

The branch seemed to attract the light of the five flames and began to glow from within.

"She, who spins the thread – the thread - " Seras looked up, changing back to English: "Oh no - "

"Concentrate, police girl," Alucard's voice cut in calmly. "Remember the lesson like you would think back on a dream..."

Seras swallowed. She closed her eyes and clenched her fists: "...spins the thread. The.. Engulfing all, (yes, that's it) – maiden sister, bid me welcome..."

Integra repeated all the words that were not English and peeled off the waxen seal from the wolf's eye-tooth. It contained some drops of a colourless liquid, which she took on her tongue. The liquid was tasteless, like clear, cold water.

She threw the wire up in the air. It hovered and, taking on a golden sheen, started to zig-zag along the imaginery lines of the pentagramma, faster and faster, until the onlookers could no longer see the woman within the shining mesh.

Integra had closed her eyes, the flashing wire made her dizzy. When she tentativly blinked again, she found herself inside a golden, five-sided room. It was much more spacious than the small pentagramma had been. The branch had grown into a tree. There was a hole between its roots. A red haired woman emerged, a welcoming smile on her lips. She wore a green dress and lots of amulets. She craned her neck to look at the tree, stopped and said: "Oh, but my dear, dear girl! That's not an ash tree! That's an oak!"

"Will anyone tell me, what's happening?"

Seras gasped, when she found Alucard right behind her: "Master? How did you get up?"

"With difficulty, police girl." Alucard leaned on her shoulder and stared ahead at the ritual site. Neither the golden wire, nor Integra were visible within the pentagramma.

"Alucard," Walter said. "I sincerely recommend that you - "

"Police girl, take a bayonet and stab Walter, if he attempts to stop me." Alucard approached the pentagramma. He staggered and nearly fell, clutching the handle of the bayonet that was still buried in his shoulder.

"But, master...!"

"Police girl! Do as I say!"

Slowly, dazedly, Seras started to look around for a blade.

"It is alright, Seras Victoria." Walter's face appeared pale and frozen. "Don't force her to do this, Alucard. You can do whatever you like. It's your life at stake, after all. Your decision."

"Indeed. I'm sorry, Walter." Alucard really meant it. He had not wanted to hurt the police girl. Or Walter. It was just so important, staying on his feet and getting to his master's side. But how could any of these mortals-by-heart be expected to understand the plight of a vampire, who had agreed to serve?

"I know," Walter said, and somehow he made it sound like he really did. "I understand. - Oh my, but you can hardly stand. Seras, will you please help Alucard walk all the way to the pentagramma and, if possible, enter the circle? - Alucard?" The butler raised a warning forefinger at the vampire: "Whatever creature you believe in may be with you, if you fail to bring our master back home!"

The witched had climbed out of the hole and was circling the tree, looking up in the branches: "Oh dear! Oh dear! You really were in a hurry, were you? Or are you just not into botanics?"

"Are you Ann?" Integra asked.

"Sir Integra Wingates Hellsing," the witch said. "Such a pretty name. But too long by far. How about that? Ingrate Awesting Gin-Shell. There are probably better ones. I just made it up."

"Actually, my second name is „Fairbrook"," Integra muttered.

"Is it? Then let's settle for „Boar-Fir, ok"?"

It took Integra a moment to recognise the second anagram: "I have no time for this. Alucard is dying. I need you to release the spell you cast on him."

"I'm sorry," Ann said. "I already told Seras. You must ask Sculd. She waits for you down at the bottom of - " She once more glanced at the tree; Integra was really starting to feel pissed. " - Yggdrasil's roots. Now, who could that be?"

Ann went to the golden haze that separated the inside of the pentagramma from the outside world, and put her hand through the wall. Someone from outside grabbed it, and she guided him over.

Integra gasped: "Alucard! What in hell are you trying to prove?"

He looked a mess, like he was going to faint on the spot. He tried to give her his notorious grin, but the effort was as strained as his voice: "Can't let you do all the handiwork."

"But that's madness! Irresponsible! I forbid you to - "

"No, no," Ann said. "That's just fine. You two go down into Yggdrasil together. That's fine!"

"Yggdrasil?" Alucard looked up at the high branches. "I'm not an expert on Nordic mythology, but isn't Yggdrasil supposed to be an ash-tree?"

Integra exploded: "Well, excuse me for having other things on my mind! Anyway, it was your draculina, who brought along that damned twig!"

"And aren't we all happy that it belonged to an oak?" Ann asked good-naturedly. "Because Ancient Mother Ash would not have taken that curse lightly. Now, off you go."

"Is there at least some useful advice, you can give us?" Integra asked, gritting her teeth.

Ann looked Alucard up and down: "Stay alive," she said.

He drew a shuddering breath: "Practical - "

"Come on!" Integra cast Ann a venomous glance, as she put Alucard's arm across her shoulder.

Ann stayed behind. She would have smiled, but she felt too concerned. For both of them. And herself.

Integra had expected the roots of a mythological tree to reach far down into the soil. But the stairs ended right after the first bend. Like someone knew about her companion's state and wanted to facilitate matters.

"We're supposed to be in the sewers of London. Maybe the Underground," Alucard said. "Where does that beach come from?"

Marvelling, they stared at the sea that stretched into infinity. Everything had a golden hue to it: the sand, the water, even the sky.

"I can see, you question the reality of this scene," a voice behind them said. "I assure you, Urda's well is as real as you believe it to be."

Integra felt Alucard's fingers dig into her shoulder, as if he meant to clasp and rip out her collar bone.

"Sir Witherspoon?" She briskly shook her head. "No. No, that is not possible."

The bent old man smiled. The white hair, the pale blue eyes, even the arthritic hands on the studded walking stick fooled the eye. But his voice was that of a woman: "I am Sculd. Sir Witherspoon died. The demon, he had so long managed to evade, killed him one hour before midnight. The thread was cut, but his soul lingers, to give the shadow a face. You, No-life King, shape shifter and master manipulator, should not be as surprised as you pretend to be."

Alucard glowered at the apparition.

"You seem to imply that his death was somehow Alucard's fault," Integra said rationally. "But by that time, he was not even in the house."

"Nor were you, thirteenth of thirteen guests," Sculd pointed out. Integra's eyes widened.

"Under the roof, on the roof," Alucard muttered into her silence. "Is it my fault, demons always take these things so damn literally?"

"You plotted it?" Integra was aghast: "You acted the poor, hurting beast, to make me stay outside with you?"

"It was your own decision, master. I was bloody drunk at that time. But I clearly remember suggesting that you go inside."

"You claimed, I might be cold and uncomfortable! If I had but known that it was about killing the old man..."

Alucard decided, he had taken this particular game far enough: "Then what, master? The old slug wanted to kill me, long before you were even born! I know, because he underestimated my ability to see and perceive more than meets the human eye. The experiments, he planned to conduct on me, involved lots of blessed silver spikes and Holy Water. Your father was quite young and a seeker of knowledge himself. Yet, I still remember his words, when Witherspoon elaborated on his details: „Dear friend! Such cruelty! Your intentions suggest, you don't consider Alucard a sentient being." And Witherspoon screamed: „It's a vampire, damn! A killer and a bloody manipulator, and if you are on his side, he's wormed his way into your brains already!""

"What did my father reply?" Integra asked, when Alucard did not go on.

Slowly, Alucard shook his head: "I won't put his words into your mouth. You might feel manipulated."

"What became of Sir Witherspoon?"

"After he blamed Arthur to be my puppet, I never perceived his voice again. Until tonight. When he brought the Iscariots to the scene. Anderson told me as much."

"The old mortal was afraid of you," the image of Sir Witherspoon cut in, reminding both of them of its presence. "He was aware of a vampire's nature and abilities. Are you, maiden sister? Do you understand, what a vampire can do?"

"Of course I do! I am the leader of the Hellsing Organisation."

"You," Sculd said, "are a mortal, messing with monsters."

The scene changed and they found themselves in a circular room like a cavern. They were looking upon a fake image of Alucard, killing a fake image of Integra.

***She was hanging upside down in the jaws of the black demon dogs that had sprouted from Alucard's body. They were holding her so high, her hair hardly touched the ground. It was dripping red. Her throat had been slashed – no, mangled. But she was still alive, to keep the blood coming.

The fake Alucard was down on his hands and knees, lapping up the pooling blood. His long, living hair fell in his eyes, so Integra, the onlooker, could only see his grinning mouth and the grotesquely long and pointed tongue that was busily at work.***

Integra's stomach tightened. She knew, she was looking at a nightmare. A nightmare, she had kept dreaming for more than ten years now, without ever remembering in the morning. She contained herself: Sculd, like Alucard – like any supernatural being, demon, vampire – probably sensed fear in a mortal and thrived on it. Mentally, at any rate. Integra would not give her that satisfaction.

"You show me nothing new," she said icily. "I know, how Alucard looks, when he's feeding upon a ... special treat."

Sculd had dropped the mask of Sir Witherspoon and taken on the shape of Ann. Only she did not wear crosses, and her eyes were gleaming green like emeralds: "Bravely spoken, child. Especially, since it might be your own death, you're looking on!"

Alucard laughed out loud: "If you really think so, then you have missed a crucial point. My master – she is Hellsing!"

He let go of Integra's shoulder and took one unsteady step forward: "Fight!" he ordered the fake Integra.

***At the sound of his voice her eyes opened, locking on to him. She had lost her glasses, but, being an illusion, she did not seem to be impaired.***

"Fight!" Alucard repeated, clutching the handle of the blade that still stuck in his shoulder. Something had just snapped in there. Time was blood, and he was running out of both.

***The fake Integra started to move her right hand. She reached into her jacket.***

"Come on! Fight!" Alucard screamed at her –

***- and she pulled out her handgun and emptied the magazin into the demons that were holding her. The hounds retreated, dropping her to the ground. The fake Alucard transformed into a black shadow of whipping tentacles and red eyes.***

The real Integra supported her corporeal vampire and helped him glide to the floor. His shoulder was bleeding profusely. Integra tried to stop the flow with her bundled jacket.

"Interesting move," Sculd commented. "But you know, it will only buy her time."

***The fake Integra got to her knees. The fake Alucard re-emerged in his favorite red-coated shape.

"Authorisation Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing. Explicit order to release control art restriction system," the fake Integra rasped. "All levels, until the target has been eliminated."

"Master?," the fake Alucard asked. "What is the target?" ***

The real Integra felt her companion's grip tighten on her hand.

My decision, she thought. An act of mercy. Or dominance.

She made her choice, but it did not feel like a choice, really.

***"Alucard," the fake Integra said.

The fake Alucard's eyes were wide, as his form disintegrated into wafting wisps of black and red shadows. Dogs, bats, centipedes began teeming and whirling. Eyes blinked, looked about in a panic, then went out. First his hair, then his body, the vampire turned into a blazing white flame.***

"I am the master of the No-life King," Integra said aloud. "I do not tolerate disrespect in a servant. Therefore I do, what I must."

But did her image-self really need to step into the living hell of the blazing whirlwind, the fake Alucard had become? Then, why was she doing it, clasping her arms around the monster's neck?

The vampire did not even appear surprised. Gently, he brushed away her burning hair and sank his teeth into her throat. He took her life into himself, the last familiar, he'd ever create from a victim. And this one last life, they now shared, withered in the heat and died down and was burnt to a cinder.

If the fake Integra had been changed into a nightstalking vampire, she would never see another sunset now.

Sculd stood beside Integra: "Do you care for him so much?" she asked softly. "Or did you only feel guilty?"

"A master-servant-relationship, as we Hellsing see it, is never a one-way-affair," Integra said firmly. "We never demand, what we're not prepared to give ourselves. That's our side of the bargain. Our pride."

"Arthur's words..." Alucard's voice was almost too low to hear. But it didn't matter. Integra could feel him right outside her thoughts now. There were no words. Words would come back later. Yet, it was unmistakably a vampire's mind – her vampire's mind, touching, teasing, probing to be admitted. Integra opened up, and the connection was established so enthusiastically, she almost expected to hear it fizzle and zing.

Soon, it felt like a big dog, happily rummaging about and turning in an undersized basket.

"Why did I have to talk to you, Sculd? Why not Loki?" Integra asked over the cheerful repossession going on in the vaults of her subconscious.

"What do you mean, child?"

"The story, Sir Witherspoon told me: The magic to deal and undo immortality was originally Loki's. Why not talk to Loki?" Integra took a deep breath and continued: "All the time, I felt that the narrative left a lot of questions unanswered. But Alucard's remark about a demon's habit of sticking to the letter suddenly brought it all together. Now, I think, Sir Witherspoon missed the point. Because he was an old man and focussed on the aspect of immortality."

"So, what was the point?" Sculd's smile suggested that she already knew Integra's answer.

"It was a game between Loki and you all along," Integra said. "You could have done all you liked. After all, you're a goddess in your own right. But you enjoyed the bargain: If the wounded mage lived, you would comply with the trickster's wishes and surrender yourself to him. Loki gave you the magic. He already considered himself triumphant." Integra's words were spilling out fast: "But you never really cared, whether the mage be alive or dead! You killed him on his coming back to life, claiming he „had not lived", so Loki was thwarted! And not for the first time, I'd wager! Your seal, Lady Sculd, is about two persons engaged in a relentless battle of will! Compassion for a third is only a means! A cliché. An alibi, which you used for lulling Loki into a false sense of security."

Sculd smiled: "I, too, do, what I must," she said, but Integra went on: "What I need to know is: Do you and Loki still indulge in bickering and games? Is that, what happened here? Alucard and I, are we just puppets in your cosmic love fight?"

"Puppets? More than that, maiden sister – mir- aargh!" Sculd screeched, when a silver spade broke through her ribs. Blood fountained out of the wound and out of her mouth, drowning her shrill scream. Her form collapsed in a rain of blood, spraying Alucard, who was standing at Sculd's back. He wielded the bayonet, that had formerly been stuck in his shoulder.

Integra looked at the puddle of blood on the floor and pushed up her glasses: "Say, my servant: You have not, by the way, just slaughtered a thousand-year-old valkyre?"

"Why the surprise? I already slaughtered two-thousand-year old Greek strigae!" Alucard reached out for her, as the valkyre's blood casually passed into his body. "And now, master, please allow me to practically sit on top of you again! This place is coming down!"

"I really wanted to hear that answer!" Integra grumbled, as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Sorry, master! I'll try to time my outbursts of variable violence more circumspectly next time." Alucard draped her jacket around her shoulders and picked her up bridal-style.

No heartbeat. No living breath. The information registered, but not as top priority. Alucard was busy, protecting his fragile, mortal master from harm. Integra was busy, thinking about what Sculd had meant to tell her: Why was she acting so helpful? She had no reason to care about us. To her, our distress was a mere by-product of a meddlesome affair that has gone on for ages...

"Excuse me, master!" Alucard gently lowered Integra to the ground and positioned himself over her. The scenery around them seemed to fall apart. Firebrands were coming down everywhere. Alucard bowed down, trying to expose as little of himself as possible.

Lost in thought, Integra placed her hand protectively on the back of his head. He snatched her hand and tucked it safely under his body.

More than puppets? Mir-ah-?

A maiden and a monster, committed to each other – mind and soul, by ancient bonds.

Will and pride, actors in a cosmic love fight. ("Stop fake-breathing down my neck! It's setting my teeth on edge!")

Sitting on top of each other, driving each other crazy, ("You mean, like this, master?") - in their strange, small world, only the well-informed would ever know existed.

("Oh, drop dead, Alucard!" - "With pleasure, master!")

Bickering and gambling. Forever.

Miracles? Mirages?

Mirror.

Damned!

+++ End of Chapter 7

A/N: Well now. We're almost done. I've got a question: Did Alucard fool any of you the way he fooled me? I wrote and re-wrote that "roof-scene" six or seven times (it wasn't taking place on the roof, to begin with). I didn't want him to look too pathetic. Yet, whatever I tried - he always ended up lying across Integra's lap, looking "endearingly helpless". And I just knew, I was missing something (I mean, come on, as long as you can think of and pronounce a word like "exceptionally" in a full sentence, how bad can it be, really?) But it was only when I asked myself, which form Sculd would choose, that this little voice of inspiration said: "Sir Witherspoon's. Because he's dead. - You realised that, didn't you? Oh, come on! You wrote down the conditions yourself! You've watched Alucard capturing Integra's attention, no matter the cost..."

I could've knocked down the ladder and designed some really bad weather then ;). But instead, I just rewrote the scene, and this time, finally, it felt like I'd gotten it "right".

Well, I hope, you'll be back for the last chapter. There's some more blood to shed and mop up.